Finding Faith Pt1 - Julia
by WilliamAndJulia
Summary: The long awaited pt.1 prequal to Final Symbol. Please R


******Ok, so these two parts have taken ages to write. I'm becoming more and more pedantic about my writing. **

**These were promised to be uploaded to the lovely Amy on Facebook,  
****I know its just past midnight, but I took forever to final proof read! :/  
I'm hoping to have William's Part up in a few hours too, but I haven't even started to proof read, so watch this space!  
****  
**

**Also thankyou to all the lovely reviews on Final Symbol and hope you enjoy these two new stories!  
**

**Please R&R and suggest to your friends! :)  
**

**Lois :)  
**

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**Finding Faith - Julia**

"The final symbol I saw was a key."

A key.

His confession rang clear and true in her soul, but she could not answer the resounding echo in her mind.

A key...

What could it mean?

"Your symbol is not a secret any more," she told him in a whisper.

He only smiled, as if he were perfectly at peace with this fact.

"Nothing remains a secret forever," he said.

How true it was.

If her inkling was correct, her feelings were no longer a secret either.

She held her breath for a few tense moments, waiting for him to say something that would give her a clue. Not even his expression changed as he stared at her, drinking in every detail of her from across the room. He did not make any moves, did not spare any breath. He was all but hypnotized.

"We both know each other's secrets now," she said plainly, trying in vain to cleverly compartmentalise everything they had shared that evening.

"We have a whole night to share more..."

His silken suggestion made the room feel ten times warmer.

A whole night...

Of course agreeing to stay with him on his night shift as she did every week, meant that their night had only just begun.

The dark hours had never seemed so daunting to Julia before. As William walked slowly around the front of his desk, oil lamps flickering invitingly around him, she wondered if she could handle another eight hours with him, sharing some of her most heartfelt secrets.

"Perhaps we have shared enough for one night," she whispered shakily as she gripped the side of the door.

His brow furrowed, but in his eyes she could see that he was more than willing to share so much more.

Such an offer was too delicious to indulge.

She had to think up a reasonable excuse.

"I think we should go and find George," she said anxiously, tapping her fingers on the door. "He's been gone for quite a while. I'm a little worried about him. Aren't you?"

She must have appeared more desperate than she thought. William quickly turned and looked out the window, as if he could somehow sense his friend's direction through the darkness. When he looked back at her, his eyes were solemn and deep with understanding.

"He has been gone for a while..." He paused and licked his lips, as if he were purposefully avoiding revealing something more. "But I don't think we need to worry."

Her suspicions sizzled like butter in a hot pan.

"William, he's been gone for more than an hour."

There was something sinfully exciting about the twinge of fear in his eyes. He looked as if he'd just been caught in a lie. And it was all the evidence she needed to know that something more was going on.

"I have a feeling he's closer than you think," he whispered, so softly the wind almost swept his words into silence.

Yet another secret was passed between their piercing gazes. The confirmation could not have been more plain.

George had not gone any further than their own street. Had he organised this..?

Julia darted from the office, lungs heaving for air that did not smell like old bookshelves, heady cinnamon and romantic oil lamps. She pushed from her mind all thoughts of wine-red carpeting and mahogany bookshelves and dark eyes filled with piercing compassion.

Had she been a victim all along of some master plan? Had George purposefully left the Station for so long just to give her a chance to admit her feelings to William? Had William been playing a part in devising the set up from the beginning?

Whatever was happening tonight, she hated and loved it at once.

It was a little thrilling for her to imagine William treading on her tail, had he followed her blindly into the dark street without her knowledge. What would it be like if she were to suddenly glance over her shoulder and see him behind her, beautifully dark haired and breathless? He would rush to her and take her wrist and stop her in her tracks. He would meld his lips to hers in a harsh, heart wrenching kiss, and confess that he had loved her since the very moment their eyes had met again.

A chill sizzled up her spine at the thought, and she had to look behind her and make sure William was still not there.

Her feet swept over the damp grass as she swiftly ran through the morgue to the almost hidden conservatory – her only haven these days. If only there had been a door to slam behind her.

Julia's chest was heavy and her feet felt like lead and her muscles were twitching all over as she took refuge in the dark, misty conservatory backing onto the lake. The croaking of toads and sizzling of nocturnal insects lulled her for a brief minute of restoration. With shaky hands, she carefully lit several of the fluorescent oil lamps that lined the windows.

This place looked so lonely. So deliciously lonely.

It was perfect for a moment like this.

She wanted lonely right now. At least she thought she did.

She clutched her skirt with one hand only because she needed something to clutch. She was frightfully fidgety, but she hoped just a bit of deep breathing and a good long walk would help to calm her down.

As she paced around the pressed stone path, Julia tried to distract herself with watering the plants she grew for some ointments. But with her mind clearly elsewhere, she only managed to drown a few buds in a bath of soil.

Blindly, she let the watering can clatter to the ground and moaned in distress.

"He knows."

She said it over and over as she paced frantically around the humid conservatory. Her normally silky hair had fallen round her face to a mess of honey tendrils that refused to stay in her usual graceful chignon. She felt delirious and dizzy and deliciously breathless. Her heart now resided somewhere by the base of her throat, and had ever since she'd left William's study not minutes earlier.

He knows.

She told the walls, she told the air, she told the plants she had accidentally drowned, she told the stone beneath her feet.

He knows. He knows exactly what I feel for him. Oh, how could I have let this happen?

Out of her sight, a friendly intruder made her way quietly into her hectic little sanctuary, and she watched her as she slowly gave into her frantic thoughts, waiting for the opportune moment to intervene.

"He knows. Oh, God. He knows…"

The moment Julia heard a new footstep behind her, she turned and faced her visitor with a look of frazzled desperation. "Ruby, it's you! I thought you had gone home..."

The young woman smiled knowingly but did not dare enter her personal space out of fear in her increasingly frantic thoughts.

"Oh, I… I don't know what to do," Julia continued to stammer breathlessly as if he could solve her problem. Her hand clutched the fine green throat of a fire lily and she choked the poor plant to death with her iron grip of fear, letting it wilt blindly to the ground.

Ruby watched the sad red petals land with a gentle splat beside Julia's foot, a sympathetic smile on her face.

"What do I do? What do I do?" she muttered in a mentally unsound fashion, scurrying all over the cramp conservatory, a beautiful bundle of hysteria.

"What indeed," Ruby whispered to the air, lazily paving her way through the tables lined with ointment equipment as she slowly brought up the rear of her endless spiral.

She stayed a safe distance behind her until she finally came to rest against her wooden worktable, which was scattered with half-finished notes and recipes in her delicate hand. Her arms leaned back heavily onto the surface of the table, absent mindedly flicking at a corner of a recipe.

"I'm exhausted," she whimpered, lungs heaving theatrically.

Ruby chortled as she crossed her arms over her chest, looking surprisingly cool and collected in her smart tweed attire. "I'd imagine so."

She shook her head slowly, pausing to swallow a rush of fear. "You don't understand… I—" Her mouth clamped shut as if she had just reached the understanding herself. What had happened to her? What had spurred this insanity? It was only in recent months she had become closer to Ruby again, to whom she could openly talk about William without being judged so soon after Darcy.

Ruby simply stared in confusion, fruitlessly attempting to clearly read her face.

"Oh, Lord, have mercy on me..." she whispers to the heavens.

Julia shook her head absently and walked towards the corner of the room. Ruby raised her eyebrows in question, but she just sighed, utterly spent, and sank slowly to the ground in a clumsy heap with her arms around her middle.

Grateful for an excuse to abandon pretences, Ruby sat casually beside her on the ground and half-listened to the giddy nonsense of her thoughts.

"I'm sorry I'm such a mess," she whined in embarrassment, cupping her cheeks in her hands.

"Why are you so upset?" she asked, unable to pick out an idea coherent enough to explain the reason behind her worry.

"He knows," she mourned woefully, as if it were the most profound tragedy. "I think he knows that I... He knows how I feel."

Ruby crinkled her eyebrows at her. "But he hasn't said anything to acknowledge it?"

She shook her head.

"Then how are you so certain 'he knows'?"

Her gaze lifted to the ceiling, not being able to look at her and talk this openly. "I saw it in his eyes." she blushed heavily at the remission.

Ruby pursed her lips, considering her mindful of heavenly visions for a minute while she breathed heavily. Then out of the blue, she asked a very 'George Like' question.

"Julia, can you spell 'Mississippi'?"

Her head whipped around to face her, utterly bewildered. A bitter half-laugh spouted from her gaping mouth, but she did not answer her.

"Go, on. Spell it for me," she encouraged kindly.

She scoffed, shaking her head at her ridiculous effort to change the subject, but spelled it nonetheless.

"M-I-S-S-I-S-S-I-P-P-I."

With each letter she recited, Ruby's girlish smile grew wider, and she was pleasantly surprised by the slight warmth of reason that began to creep back into her overwrought mind.

She stared idly at her delighted grin, still somewhat befuddled.

"Comprehension check," she explained, tapping her finger to his temple.

She rolled her eyes but couldn't help smiling in appreciation.

"Would you like my input now?" she asked politely.

She looked her over in surprise.

"William is not an idiot."

Her eyebrows shot past her hairline, and Ruby's smile quirked.

"You could not have expected that he would go on forever, never noticing the way you felt about him again after Darcy.."

She wished her words had been true, but now that she had said it so bluntly, she realized that some part of her had thought she could get away with it. That very same part of her hoped that William never would have to find out about her feelings for him...unless that chance somehow promised his love in return.

"I..." She paused, self-conscious of her own words before continuing softly, "I suppose I did expect that."

Ruby sighed patiently. "What exactly is so bad about him knowing that you care?"

"It isn't just care, Ruby. It never was. You know that."

"But William doesn't know that...necessarily," she trailed cryptically.

She covered the sides of her head with her hands. "Stop confusing me."

"You need to tell him," she spewed suddenly.

"And if I don't?"

"I'll—"

"You can't speak a word about this to him! Never—"

"Of course I wouldn't," Ryby interrupted promptly. "I promised I would never do that to you," she said, eyes steady.

She relaxed somewhat, raking her fingers through her fallen tendrils and slumping against the wall. "Thank you."

"I was only going to say that I would have pity on you. And William," she pointed out gently. "Whether you acknowledge it or not, your dishonesty will affect his feelings as well."

"I don't want to hurt him," Julia whispered, her eyes wide with fear.

Ruby sighed and reached up to loosen her scarf, patiently picking the knot with her fingers. "Then you should at least confirm the gravity of your feelings for him."

Julia only shook her head like a stubborn child who refused to talk.

"I don't understand the reasoning behind your vehemence," Ruby said, her voice strained with frustration. "Please enlighten me, because your face and body language are only doing the opposite."

"I'm afraid," she whined softly.

Her face was wary. "Yes, I can see the fear, but it makes no sense to me."

Julia ducked her head away from her, suddenly too ashamed to speak. Her mind involuntarily conjured the hazy, erotic movements of Darcy embracing her in painful surrender – a strange, melancholy illusion in hurtful shades of liquid grey and violet.

"Julia.." Ruby leaned her weight against the window, shoulders sagging as though from exhaustion, her voice a strained warning finally understanding what she meant.

She apologized silently, hiding her face in her hands as she tried to clear her mind to a clean white slate.

"William has never been with a woman, Julia," Ruby confirmed in gentle exasperation.

Her heart slammed against her throat, threatening to renew her guilt if she was certain what she'd said was true. "Has he told you this, straight from his mouth?" Ruby and William were clearly better friends than she had first thought the twinge of jealousy struck through her like a knife.

Ruby's lips set into a line of deference, but her voice was wonderfully calm when she spoke. "No, but it is something that George has assured me, after I inquired. He and William are clearly better friends than we first thought." He gave an easy shrug of his shoulders.

A heavy breath of guilt knocked pleadingly on her lungs, but Julia still refused to release it. She desperately thought of anything to counter this and threw it right back at her.

"But what about Liza? They were engaged, I mean surely...?"

She expected Ruby to roll her eyes wide at her assumption, but she only looked at her with a slightly sympathetic smile on his face, softening her features beyond what she had imagined them capable.

"Really Julia? This is William we are talking about..you should know better than that."

Not good enough.

"What if I do tell him that I have feelings for him...and he refuses me?" Her voice mellowed to a timid whisper.

Ruby made a bothered little noise in the back of his throat. "Refuse is a strong word."

Julia considered the word in her mind, measuring the volume it held with regard to her situation. As far as she could see, William was fully incapable of harming another being in any way. If she had confessed her love for him, he would have no choice but to return it out of pity.

Therein lay the problem.

Even if he did claim to love her, how could she ever expect it to be genuine? William quietly loved everyone around him mercilessly. The idea of him tossing an anchor from his heart to one person – one woman – was almost a disgrace to the way his heart worked.

This was why William was nearly untouchable, inconceivable to claim as a lover.

Emerging from her consuming sea of worry, Julia warily glanced over at Ruby.

Does he have no interest at all in having a wife?

She could not bear to say it out loud, so it came out as a timid whisper.

Ruby winced. "That's not something I can answer for you." It was exactly the response she had feared.

A loud mental sigh of frustration thwarted her thoughts.

"But from what I have heard, William would sooner crucify himself than hurt you," Ruby said boldly.

Crucify himself?

Inside her chest, Julia felt her heart being tenderly torn to shreds.

"I can't do this any more, Ruby." She fell against her narrow shoulder, and she was prepared to take her into her sisterly embrace.

Her arms held her with a sureness she had never felt from her before. Her sympathy was not merely pity; it was a noble entity, a strong fortification that protected her from her own harsh doubts. Something that she never would have believed possible where Ruby was concerned.

"Only you can put an end to this, Julia."

She realized with a start that this had rested on her shoulders since the day it had all dawned on her. Even now, she could never admit to herself that she had been waiting for William to end her turmoil. He had been her hero in every other instance, but this time, she realized with profound dismay, he was not going to come to her rescue no matter how long she waited.

And how could he, when he did not even know she was feeling so lost?

She had never needed to call for his help before. He had always been there before she could even part her lips to summon him.

When she imagined it in her head, she saw him, angelic-dark-haired-prince-atop-white-horse in glory beyond compare, declaring his love in a manner that would have made Shakespeare weep, as he swept her off her feet and refused to let her toes ever touch the ground again.

It was not going to happen. She had been holding out for a silly fantasy all this time.

She held tighter into Ruby's shoulder and sobbed. Nothing was more comforting and more humiliating than having her hold her as duelling emotions flew unbridled across her mind. She had been more of her sister and saviour from herself to her in the past few months. Ruby felt every pulse of pain, every selfish stab, every abrasion of her eroded and imprisoned heart as only a sister could. She knew what she was going through, for the past few weeks, while William was perfectly oblivious to this ache he had instilled within her, this ache that slowly consumed her.

It was downright despicable that her struggle, after all this time, had nothing to show for itself, except a marriage that ended sorely after barely a year of commitment. She simply wanted to scream at the unfairness of it all – the injustice in having so much power, but no courage to use it.

Ruby leaned slightly closer to speak softly into her ear. "I know you feel like everything is hopeless right now, but you need to stop feeling sorry for yourself and start making these changes on your own."

"But—"

"Don't, Julia," she interrupted, eyes glinting in warning. "Don't try and tell me you've already tried, because you haven't. You're always running away from things at the last minute. You run away before you realize how far you've made it. That is why you feel like you have accomplished nothing, even after all this time." Her voice was astoundingly declarative, yet still hushed and gentle, rather like the way she'd heard William and most recently George speak so many times before. He was definitely rubbing off on her younger sister. "You now have to realise that you have to be the hero...and you're scared."

The eloquence with which she was able to articulate her older sisters thoughts was positively staggering.

"I only want to love him, Ruby," she whimpered with a sad shake of her head. "I realise now that's all I've ever truly wanted. To make him happy, to protect him, to be here for him always."

Ruby's gaze crystallized in understanding. "Do you ever think that maybe he just wants the same things for you?"

Something in the cautious intensity, the slowness, the awe-filled softness of her voice as she said it made her wonder.

"I'm always hoping," she admitted, looking to her from under her lashes.

"Then stop hoping and make him love you, Julia. Make him love you, if you want it so badly." Her eyes were excited and hopeful as she took her hand and grasped it firmly for emphasis as she said the words.

She shook her head blankly, disillusioned. "How do I do that?"

"By telling him that you love him."

There was so much more to all of this than Ruby was letting on. So much more that she felt only Ruby & George knew. So much that she was not revealing, that she couldn't reveal. It was a tiny bit thrilling to know that one such possibility could promise repercussions in her favour... but she had to complete the task first.

The most challenging task imaginable.

"Julia," she looked directly and fiercely into her eyes, quieting her at once. "George and I want William to be happy. I want both of you to be happy. If you're meant to be together then you shouldn't have to wait any longer." she shook her head, smiling ever so faintly as she said it, and for the first time, she truly stopped to let herself think.

She breathed a tremulous breath, staring at her straightforwardly as she envisioned a scenario where she would have no chances to turn back. Maybe such a scenario would be the only solution. She had to force herself into a situation where it was necessary for her to reveal the truth once and for all – even if that meant losing her integrity and her dignity and her sanity.

For once, she would have to be her own hero and not everyone else's.

"It's not going to happen," she whimpered tragically. "I can't even imagine it, something so wonderful... I don't deserve it after what I did. I've made nothing but terrible choices from the day I left..."

"None of us are perfect, Julia. William would or has never turned you away for your mistakes, just as you would never turn him away for his. He wants nothing more than to help you through everything. He can't do that if you don't come to him first."

Before she knew it, the sun was rising through the filmy old windows of the conservatory where they hid. The room was glowing with soft green and gold rays, like a dawning of heaven's light from above. The music of morning melted around them, birds chirping whimsically and wind rustling the leaves like the breath of a loving mother.

"Oh, Ruby." She could barely breathe, could barely compartmentalise all that was racing through her mind. "This is so..."

she smiled strangely, her hand running awkwardly over her neck as she stared out the windows, inspiration gleaming in her eyes. "I could write a book about you two."

Julia was lost in her own mind.

Thrilling. Her thoughts proclaimed. This was thrilling.

"William should be leaving for home right now, shouldn't he?" Ruby declared beneath her breath.

Julia's eyes widened as her head turned in the direction of the station, her whole body prepared to take flight and run after him before he could get away.

But Ruby took her hand. "When he comes back, go to him. You don't need to tell him right away. But you shouldn't hide from him, Julia. Things will fall into place." Her eyes raised with a sparkle of significance. "Have faith."

This word, on Ruby's lips. She had chosen it, and there was something so significant about that.

It was always William who had used the word freely.

Faith.

But now it belonged to all of them. It could belong to her as well.

She only needed the strength to seize it.

-}0{-

William was gone all day and the next night.

Somehow she didn't think he had gotten caught up with a case outside work, when she finally came back to the station in the early hours of the morning. Somehow she thought he was prolonging the time he took to come back to the station on purpose. It didn't matter what his reasons were. She was willing to wait for him.

The inspiration hit her the moment she heard the loving squeal of the station door.

"Tell me about God."

It was the only subject they had not yet discussed in the depth she desired. If she wanted to know William in the deepest sense of the word, she had to know about his faith.

Only now did Julia realise she wanted to hear it all from his lips, not a detail to be spared.

He looked so elated, so divinely inspired just to hear these rare words from her.

"Walk with me," he said, his eyes like candles to light her way. And she thought this quote to be from Christ Himself.

Walk with me, in my footsteps. Drop everything, and follow me. Follow me to the ends of the earth...

Oh, she would have walked right off the edge for him.

She followed him without a word, into the dew-drenched mist of morning. It was still dark, but his presence seemed to glow in the wooded fields near the lake. The air was fragrant with wild herbs, nothing but the timid chirp a bird to disturb the eerie silence that fell upon the world before dawn. Above, the sky was a starless sea of deep blue, with lashes of moonlight still glistening on the long, leafy branches of trees.

In the midst of it all, William was a solitary beacon – a tall, deep vision gliding through the deep greens and browns, looking so graceful and heroic as he led Julia's way. The grass was glossy and cool around their feet as they walked side by side in silence, only stopping when they'd passed through the thick curtains of willows and reached the shore of Lake Ontario.

The resemblance of the scene to William's painting in his office was stunning. She recalled how perfectly the paint strokes had captured even the subtlest ripples of the lake during the most peaceful time of day. You truly did find the most inspiration during the early hours of dawn.

Lake Ontario by Moonlight.

The exquisite image would forever be branded in her memory.

She watched as an artist in his own right himself stepped closer to the edge of the lake, removing his shoes and socks and allowing his feet to bathe in the cool water. His hands were hanging at his sides, idle, but she could feel her heart blazing beneath her breast, just knowing all that those hands were capable of…

"Look," he whispered, tipping his chin toward the trees on the opposite shore in the distance.

Julia's eyes strayed across the lake. "Where?" she asked, uncertain.

"Anywhere," he answered.

So she looked.

"Do you see Him?"

She flinched at first, surprised at the expectation in his voice. He was asking her if she could see...God.

Helplessly, her eyes rested on the Detective whose impossibly handsome face rivalled the image of peace itself.

"I see beauty," she replied, her voice thick with honest desire, shaking with sincerity. "I see it everywhere."

"Do you know why we find things beautiful?" he asked her, as if whispering a solemn vow.

She slowly shook her head.

"Because, deep inside our hearts, in the furthest reaches within our innermost selves, we know that everything we see around us is God's creation."

William's words hung in the air as they stared at each other, in the deep sea of breaking dawn, with nothing but their breath and the gentle song of the lake to remind them that they were God's creations. Both of them. And it must have been understood, embedded in the very intensity of both their gazes as they stared, that they each found the other beautiful. So incomprehensibly, divinely beautiful.

Julia smiled softly, and lowered her eyes. "I like that," she shyly conceded to the dewy grass beneath her feet.

She didn't need to look at William's face. She could feel his smile permeating the air around her, swirling into her, weakening her knees until she came to the ground. Literally.

Her legs curled beneath her dress as she landed in the clover, and he watched her graceful descent with a quirked brow, so unaware that his unseen smile had been the cause of it.

Then he came and sat himself down beside her, hands flat in the grass.

"You seem sad."

"Hmm?"

He tilted his head closer to her as concern passed like familiar silk over his features. "You asked me to tell you about God... Why?"

"I feel like I don't know Him, being a woman of science." she confessed with a sigh. "Not like you do, even though science is so close to you as your faith"

"But you want to."

She nodded.

"What do you want to know?" His eyes were already glistening with enticing answers.

So she breathed in deeply and asked him. "Do you believe that God sometimes allows things to happen to us? Tragic things that could have been...prevented?"

William knitted his eyebrows together and pondered for a while, gazing at the glassy lake. "God is in control always, but He gives us free will," he explained gently. "I don't believe He would allow anything terrible to happen to us, unless it were designed to bring us closer to Him in some way."

She must have still appeared puzzled when he looked at her, because he was prompted to continue speaking.

"Pain and loss are sometimes the only things that will inspire us to come closer to God," he murmured solemnly. Lost in thought, he turned away and reached out with gentle, restless fingers to strum the pale green tear drops hanging from the willow tree above them. "Too often we credit good fortune with our own tactfulness. If pain is the only way to remind us that we still need Him, then He will allow us to experience that pain." His eyes grew dim and his voice deepened as his fingers clung to the end of one willowy vine. "That is what I believe."

William's obscenely peaceful expression almost discouraged Julia from offering an argument to his claim.

His fingers released the tiny green bud on the end of the vine as he turned to share a significant glance with her. "What do you believe, Julia?"

To her regret, she felt more lost than ever. "I don't know."

Some of the passion drained from his eyes, his face showing lines of lovely pity. He looked as if he were about to speak again, but this time she interrupted without hesitation.

"Oh, William," she whimpered, a gust of wind hurrying in to mask the revealing tenderness in her sigh. "I want in so many ways to share your faith."

It was not all she wanted to say – not even close. But she could not dare to utter what her heart was screaming in perfect silence.

I want to have your faith, but I am terrible because I envy you. I envy the way you believe with such stark loyalty. Despite your unending search and belief in science. I envy your devotion, your obedience, your intimacy with God. Because more than anything...I want your intimacy.

Her eyes prickled with the taunting threat of tears that she would never let fall in front of him.

"Faith is for everyone, Julia," William whispered beside her. "But you need to believe that before you can attain it."

Her heart seized, purely insatiable. "How? How do I find it? Where do I even begin?" she implored.

With a soft smile, he planted one strong hand firmly on the ground between them. "Right here. Right now."

Intimidated by his hands and the elegant freedom with which he gestured, Julia hid her own shy hands beneath her arms and touched her chin to her shoulder. "What if my soul cannot be redeemed because...I ended another's life...?"

William's face twisted into an exquisite mask of sympathy. "Julia, you cannot think like that. I know you have your doubts, but I want you to know this: I believe you have a second chance. You deserve a second chance." The emphasis in his words floored her. His eyes were glowing, his voice pulsing with passionate certainty. "Now is your time to seize the spring of salvation."

Her chin lifted. "Salvation?"

Of course he deserved to be saved.

Her heart sank slightly.

"Oh, but Julia, when you stop wishing and start believing, that is when the miracles occur." With those words, he leaned back into the glazed grass, resting his arms behind his head. The spirit of youthful vigour and evangelical charm sparkled in his bright chocolate eyes as they trustingly scanned the sky above. "It's truly amazing how nothing, no matter how tragic or terrible it is, can uproot your peace of mind once you have found this faith... Nothing."

Julia stared down at William in wonder as he lay in the grass. Her eyes shamelessly swept over the length of his powerful legs, the pleasant weight of his presence, the luxurious solitude of his body as he sprawled out alone under the sparse shade of the weeping willow. She silently marvelled at the comfort with which he now exposed himself, his bare feet and forearms and that tempting triangle of skin on his chest open for her gaze to lavish with attention.

Nothing could uproot his inner peace.

How true this was.

"Nothing."

He looked up to meet her eyes in a snap of gracious concern as she whispered the word out loud. Carefully, he raised himself up beside her once again, his supporting arm just inches from touching her back.

"No. Even if the world were to end right this moment, you would have no fear. You would have complete trust in the Lord. You would know that He would never abandon you."

William flustered her when he spoke like that – when his words were more like water – when he filled her with glorious meaning and the slow sting of being alive.

Shyly, she winced. "What if God doesn't want me?"

In the warmest whisper imaginable, William uttered, "Impossible."

For a second, she laughed. Sad, weak, slightly choking laughter, filled with the pure elation at hearing that one whispered word pass William's lips. And she was so close to having tears in her eyes.

She wanted to fling herself against him and sink into his chest, and hear him whisper that word over and over again in her ear. Impossible. Impossible. Impossible.

"Will you ask God to take care of me anyway?" It was bold, but she softened the request with a childlike voice of needy innocence.

William closed his eyes, and for a moment she thought he was going to tell her that such a request was not appropriate. What he said next shocked her.

"I ask it every day, Julia." Her heart lurched as his eyes sparkled sincerely in the misty light. "Every day."

The whole world felt very heavy in that moment.

"You..."

She was going to whisper something back. She had started to address him in the familiar, simple way.

You.

It was a question. It was an answer. It was a name. It was him.

It was lost on her tongue.

William opened his eyes a little wider...and inched closer. Julia's arms were sizzling, her knees were shaking, and her lungs were frozen still. He was so close to being close, that she felt in danger of shedding her very skin with anticipation.

His eyes lowered wistfully to her shoulder, and she was unsure of whose fault it was that they had somehow subconsciously ended up mere inches away from each other.

She suddenly felt the soft stroke of his chin on the bare, waiting skin of her exposed shoulder. The gentle beats of his breath trapped beneath the blanket of her hair, striking her neck in an unpredictable dance of warm and cool upon her flesh. His arms pressed into her back, encouraging her to surrender to this strange breed of cuddle.

She was too shocked to respond to the nuzzles and nudges he tucked below her jaw. Too paralysed by this feral fever that had taken hold of her body as he settled himself with such need against her. There was something so very visceral about the gesture, almost animal.

She felt herself responding, mirroring that powerful pull of instinct as her hand found his shoulder and she carefully pressed her body closer.

They were harmonising.

This was beautiful. This was love.

Because it was love, it was beautiful.

He gently pulled away, but his arm remained, still strong behind her back. Without it, she would have fallen straight to the ground.

As they faced each other, his eyes delivered a silent message of tears. She would have done anything to make that look disappear.

That age-old urge was fiery in her chest – the urge to kiss him. It was like just looking at a pillow when she longed for sleep.

Just do it, her heart begged. Just do it... Give him no choice. Give him no time to prepare.

But she couldn't.

The sun chose that moment to rise from behind the hills. Immediately their eyes turned to watch the glowing orange ink of daylight as it spurted over the ripples in the lake. The grand, glistening arrival of light into the world seemed to shock them awake with its cruelly beautiful entrance. In the light it was impossible to hide the desire in one's eyes. In the light it was impossible to go on like this, so close, so dangerously close...

"This day is a gift, Julia," William murmured. "Every new day is a gift given to you by God. It is an endless blessing." He stroked her cheek with the back of his finger and bowed his head down as the wind passed between them. "One of these days you will find your faith. Perhaps this will be that day."

"Do you think..." The rest of her sentence faded into nothing. Her mouth was left dry, and her throat was slick with venom. He was staring into her, so far inside her gaze that she wanted to toss him a rope to help him climb his way out. But he looked fine with being lost. He looked...at home.

"Hm?" he nudged for her to continue, with that one little noise from his throat. And she felt it in her heart, in her heels, and the lobes of her ears.

"Do you think I...have a chance?"

"Everyone has a chance, Julia," he said, his voice reassuring, husky. He let her soak in the weight of his words before turning to admire the glorious sunrise. His eyes swept over the scene as if he were looking through the gates of heaven.

Oh, Lord, how she loved this man.

On a whim she reached out and let her fingertips touch his heart. "Did you miss this?"

Without turning toward her, he blinked at the newborn sun and his mouth fell open slightly.

He closed his eyes, losing himself in the luxury of the forbidden word.

"I never forgot what it felt like." His lost accent peeked shyly through his words, a notable flutter in the way he pronounced his vowels.

Her heart danced. "Me neither."

Finally he looked at her, his eyes barely able to stay open as he asked innocently, "Does it still hurt?"

She shook her head, then added sadly, "It's never stopped."

Her hand twitched, about to pull away, but then he stopped her. His own hand curled around hers, possessive and protecting. Her fingers felt hot and tingly, all trapped tight inside of his palm.

"Don't," he whispered, quick and needy. "Stay here...?"

The edge of question in his voice sent her heart shattering into pieces. As if he must ask permission to prolong her touch.

His eyes closed again as he pushed her hand closer to his heart and secured it there, never willing to let go.

"Your touch is...it is everything...it is...I..."

The tender severity with which he said the words stole the breath straight from her lungs. The muscles in his throat looked so taut, and the shakiness of his voice gave her chills. She had never seen William struggle so much with his words before. It was stunning.

"Julia, I... I need you."

Her eyes widened as his shut tighter. "I'm right here," she murmured in awe.

"No, I—" He shook his head once, frustrated. He worried his lip beneath his teeth, and his eyes flickered away as he tried to find the right words. "I need you...to believe."

"I want to," she said fervently. "But there will be always be times when I lose all reason—"

"Abandon reason, then." He sat up, lifted his weight on his knees, and bent closer until he was practically hovering over her, his hand still clinging to hers. "Let go. Find yourself. Free yourself."

"I am nothing but a doctor," she argued pointlessly. "I thirst for nothing but answers."

"Do you know what I thirst for, Julia?" he asked, body rigid and eyes fierce with longing.

She would have offered up an answer had her heart not been caught in her throat.

"I thirst for truth," he whispered.

"I don't have the strength that you do," she mourned with a weak sigh.

"Strength comes with faith, Julia." He lowered his gaze to drink in the sight of her small hand in his. Turning it over, he examined her palm with caring fingers until she could no longer hide her trembling. When his gaze lifted, she felt exposed enough to cry. "You are thirsting for faith. In something. In someone...I can see it in your eyes."

His words were so heartbreakingly gentle, like raindrops landing on her skin. She wanted to soak them in.

"Help me find my faith," she pleaded, her voice barely audible.

"I will. I will, Julia," William murmured, his words caressing the top of her head. "Whatever it takes."

She burrowed herself into his arms and held on tightly. "Show me hope."

"Oh, I will. I promise you."

The morning mist enveloped their bodies in a fragile embrace. Waves of heat and light danced on the lake and shimmered through the willow trees. Sunlight beamed upon them, giving strength to their whispered vows.

William leaned in close, his lips just centimetres away from touching Julia's forehead...and with a careful nudge forward, she encouraged the kiss.

One, feather-light, tortuously fragile touch of his small, soft lips.

Her skin was singing. Her heart was pounding. Her cheeks were blazing.

William had kissed her.

It had been the most chaste kiss imaginable, in the centre of the least intimate part of her face – her forehead – and yet it had filled her with the strength of a guiding light around her soul.

"Our paths have been joined again for a reason, Julia ." He took her hand and held it against his cheek. "For so long I had no one to hold my hand as I walked through this world. Now I have found a second chance to have yours to hold."

He held her steadily despite her quivering, his eyes wholly absorbed in hers and nowhere else.

"Will you stay by my side as we follow our chosen path together? Will you hold my hand, and walk with me?"

"Yes, William," she whispered, squeezing his hand tighter. "And I promise to never let go."

Not one mention of romantic feelings had been shared between them, and yet she had never felt more satisfied before. Here in his arms, finally understanding the power of his faith, Julia knew that she did not need William as a husband to know true happiness. All she knew was that they needed each other; whether they were married or not no longer mattered. Though it was something she wanted more desperately than she had ever wanted anything else, she knew there was more to their connection than that kind of bond. Even marriage would do nothing to prove the love they had for one another.

They already knew how powerful it was.

It was the love of two people bound by their faith in each other, and it was more than enough to last an eternity.

-}0{-

Julia was heartbroken to watch William leave for an investigation after that fateful morning of faith by the lake. In his absence, she rested under the willow tree and remembered all that he had said. She took a long walk through the forest and freed her thoughts and worries, pondered everything she had been through, and recalled all the times she had come close to telling William how she felt. She tried with all her might to pinpoint what she had been doing wrong, what had been discouraging her from simply revealing the truth. But even after hours of walking through the woods, she had only arrived full circle without an answer.

She had every intention of telling William that she loved him when he came to the Station that evening. But when the door finally opened and he stepped into the station house, she could not even bring a single limb on her body to twitch.

If she saw him, she would cave. She knew it would happen. She had no control any more. She may as well have been a volcano, ready to explode at any unpredictable second. It was for her own sanity that she had been so careful to keep out of his sight, like a clever insect avoiding the nasty slap of a hand in mid-air. But it was useless. Two beings under one area could only avoid each other for so long, no matter how extensive the area itself was.

Somehow they pretended like everything was normal. Like they had not shared a profoundly intimate conversation, a closeness they had not dreamed of asking from the other before. They pretended it was just another part of their day. Like it was not a blindingly crucial part of their destiny.

William pretended so well, even when she finally happened across him.

He was outside, on the porch that led to the back of his his study, with the crumbled remains of a blueberry muffin in his palm. Curiously, she watched him from the open door to his office, wondering what sort of eccentric ritual the detective could have possibly been performing outside on the porch with a single blueberry muffin.

Further puzzling her theories, he began to toss the crumbs into the grass before him – to one direction, then the other – an even spread across the grass, like he was sowing seeds to grow flowers.

He heard her footsteps by the doorway. He felt her eyes watching him.

Half of his body was bathed in the sunbeams as he turned to her and smiled – a smile so carelessly charming and so recklessly adoring that she had forgotten all about the mutilated pastry in his hand. Then he spoke to her.

"The owner of the town bakery has a wife who is a little too generous to us officers of the law. She always brings me too much bread and pastries on the weekends," he chuckled with a fond tilt of his head. "I'll usually give some to the men if I can, but once in a while I like to feed the birds."

He was feeding the birds.

Julia had to wonder if William realised that every single thing he did was altruistic to an almost ridiculous degree. If he could not give bread to his men, he gave it to the birds. She imagined if he could not give it to the birds, he would give it to the mice, then perhaps the ants. He just could not keep himself from giving.

And she could not keep herself from loving him whenever she watched him give.

The birds had gathered surprisingly quickly on the ground where he had scattered the crumbs, as if they had known the precise time and place to come for food. Perhaps William had done it so often that they did know where and when to come to him.

They hopped lightly about, pecking happily at the ground with sweet chirps of appreciation for the generous young man who watched them feed with a glowing grin. Julia studied William as he watched the birds, and a strange, heavy pressure set in over her lungs.

He glanced back at her where she watched him from between the doors. His smile had lost some of its blinding strength, but his dimples were still there, one kissing each of his smooth cheeks while he gazed at her contentedly. His eyes were somehow both fiery and gentle at once, and for one startling instant, his gaze landed somewhere below her neck. Julia's heart showed off with a twirl deep inside her, and everything felt cramp and warm and quivery, and slightly uncomfortable.

Whatever he had seen had caused his dark eyes to flicker, and his hands to find shelter in his pockets. But his soft, slumbery smile remained exactly the same.

Perplexed, Julia allowed her own gaze to slide slowly down to her chest…and she realized that, all along, her hand had been pressed to her heart.

It hurt her to have to turn away from him with a half-hearted smile. It hurt her to have to send herself to the morgue when she would rather be spending every second by his side. It hurt. But it had to be done.

For so much time spent in a frantic dither, Julia found herself exhausted into a depression. The initial excitement over her situation had parted curtains to the problem that lie behind it. She now had to do something about it. Something had to be changed.

It was dangerously tempting, thinking of what it might be like after it was all over. If she were somehow able to find the courage, and confront him with her confessions, her world would be a different place. Instead of every force being against her, every force would be beside her, in her power.

She imaged the splendid torture she had been made to go through would give out beneath her feet, and there in its place, she would be free. The wonders around her would sparkle before her eyes – the heat of the sun and the song of the birds and the scent of the flowers would all remain, unchanged, as they were before. But if she had his love, they would be so very different. Exactly the same, and vastly altered at once.

If she had his love.

It was amazing, how preposterously myopic her life's eyes had become for this one glaring goal on the centre of her horizon. She was fixated.

William was a graceful sort of eccentric, wildly wonderful, and marvellously mysterious. He was the one blue stone among all the brown ones at the bottom of the stream. He was the one sunny day in a month full of rain storms. He was the eye of the hurricane, the very end of the tunnel, the very tip of the mountain. A calm wave in a turbulent sea, a cirrus cloud amidst the cumulus. The star made of seeds found between two halves of an apple.

Until now he had been unattainable. He was the one she would always want, when wanting became all she could do. Without him, everything withered and rotted and went out of tune. Everything wept grey tears and shrunk into the earth like nothing mattered any more.

When he even so much as walked down the cobblestone path toward the road, away from the morgue, away from her, she wanted to run after him. The wind seemed to scold her for letting him leave, the trees were gaping at her in shock, the blades of grass always fluttered in his direction as he walked past them, as if they were longing to grip his ankles and keep him from going too far.

She wanted to swim through his mind like a minnow in a hollow place, to be that teasing tickle in every one of his thoughts. To affect him as the sunlight affects vegetation. She wanted to be seen as a light in his darkness, a spark of fulfilment in the dreary rain of his days.

The thought of him needing her was downright corrupt in the way it thrilled her. If seeing her from the corner of his eye was enough to make his heart leap skyward; if hearing her voice when all else was quiet was enough to make his ears tingle with joy; if feeling her agony was enough to make him weep for the world and all its shortcomings... then she would be satisfied.

She wanted nothing but him.

She wanted him to show her every last item he owned in his office and explain to her the fascinating story behind its origins. She wanted him to show her everything he owned, damn it all. And she wanted him to talk to her, about anything at all, for hours and hours so she could bathe in the blessed waves of his voice.

She wanted to pick him apart, and dissect him, and see how he worked inside, and then sew him back together again. She wanted to know everything about him – what Bible passage was his favourite, and what songs made him cry, and what sorts of things made him laugh, and didn't he think Lake Ontario was a ridiculous name for a lake? And why did he have a habit of curling his hand against his hip when he wasn't holding anything, did he ever daydream about indecent things like she sometimes did, and what was the name of the jealous demon who had stolen his wings?

She only wanted to be the one to embrace him every night and every morning, to curl up against him while he wrote in his journal, to offer her ears for his every longing secret, to place a flurry of chaste butterfly kisses on his bare thighs...

She thought it might be wonderful to sneak up behind him and straighten his collar while he was hunched in concentration at his desk. She thought it might be fascinating to clutch his coat and kiss him with abandon when he came home from the station each night. She thought it might be incredible to have him lie beside her in bed with the sheets pulled up to his shoulders while he stared into her eyes. She thought it might be intoxicating to be the centre of his universe. This man. This tormenting eccentricity of a specimen. This Detective. This Man. This William Murdoch.

She wanted him. Sweet Jesus. She needed him.

Like air, like water, like blood. Like life.

How thrilling to know that there was a solution to this torment. There was something she could do, something she could control to some extent in the clockwork cogs of her destiny. Should she bind herself to this man and trust that his love was prepared to take her in return; she could own this world and all its power.

But this power seemed so unreal, so out of her reach. If she could pluck the stars from the sky she would have done it by now. These things were impossible. And she was left, beside herself in doubt, lonelier than she ever had been in her life.

Whenever Julia was feeling lonely, she would try to talk to God.

Whenever she had to talk about things she could not tell God, she would talk to the sun.

The sun was an unbiased face. It was always shining and bright and warm, no matter how shameful her confessions were. The sun listened to everything she had to say without interruption. The sun did not judge her, and the sun did not shun her. The sun never gossiped behind her back.

But the one thing the sun could not do was offer her a solution to her problems. Only God could do that. But she could not tell God these things. She was not sure that God even listened to her any more.

Julia folded her legs beneath her skirt and settled gracefully into the grass on the top of the highest hill she could find, making sure she looked presentable for her conversation with the sun. She had caught the sun at a bad time – just before it was about to set – so she had to hurry and explain her problem before the evening set in.

She sighed and turned her helpless gaze up to the magenta majesty of the horizon. It did not hurt now, to stare directly at the great star with her naked eyes, and for that she was grateful. It was awfully impolite to carry out a conversation when one did not make eye contact.

With a cautionary inspection of her surroundings to be sure she was alone, Julia quietly revealed to the sun her devastating situation.

She whispered of the frightening intensity of her love for the Detective, and her doubts that he would ever reciprocate such feelings any more. She confessed her fantasies and whimpered of the agony they had caused her. She admitted her disgrace at refusing to reconcile her recurring sins to God.

She begged the sun to give her answers, just this once. If there ever were a dilemma so exhausting and agonizing she could scarcely continue living, it was the one she was trapped within now.

She listened with her sensitive ears for a long while, waiting for an answer – any answer – and counting the seconds before the sun would sink below the valley and disappear. And she didn't even know if it would be back in the morning.

The sun was just a rim of glowing colour now, a peeking pink halo over the vast stretch of land before her. She folded her hands into a fervent prayer and cast her tearful eyes to the ground, unable to watch the sun abandon her again.

At least let me know which is the right choice. What should I do? Where should I go?

I am so lost without your guiding light...

She caught her lip between her teeth and reluctantly lifted her gaze to the horizon to watch her hope slip away with the sun as it bid her an unceremonious farewell.

Julia bowed her head and sobbed into her flawless hands, still linked in a frozen prayer.

She retreated into her shell of a body and waited for the darkness to once again envelop her heavy heart.

But there was no darkness this evening, even after the passing of the sun. There was instead, a peculiar light, an unattainable glow that welled up inside of her, opening her soul to the words that were waiting to wake her.

No longer able to weep, she turned her head up and away from the West, where the East had been calling her all along.

Tell him.

The voice that so softly answered her plea was a familiar one, but it did not belong to the sun.

It belonged to God.


End file.
